


Find A Safe Place, Brace Yourself, Bite Your Lip

by alexabarton



Series: Deduce My Ruined Heart [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Play, Face-Fucking, Facials, M/M, Role-Playing Game, Slut Shaming, Slut Sherlock, Teenlock, Unilock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2413823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexabarton/pseuds/alexabarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock have the flat to themselves for the afternoon and decide to indulge in a little role-playing game.<br/>A smutty teenlock ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find A Safe Place, Brace Yourself, Bite Your Lip

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I'm a terrible person, this just sort of happened! Set in the same 'verse, this is just a little porny interlude before the next big installment - enjoy!

“ Christ Sherlock, why would you fucking do that? That’s fucking disgusting. What sort of dirty little slut are you? I can’t even look at you right now”

John stomped around the bedroom , heading for the door , stopped , twirled on the spot and stalked angrily back to stand in front of Sherlock. He jabbed his forefinger in Sherlock’s face, making him jerk back reflexively.

“Oh my God, you get off on this don’t you? Me, calling you all the filthy shits under the sun, you like it don’t you?”.

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably. He looked at the floor, he looked at the ceiling, he looked at the window, anywhere but John’s face. He was terrified about what he might see written there, that John would think he was a disgusting freak. His cheeks flamed red with embarrassment, burning under the intense scrutiny of John’ gaze.

“That’s ……good to know…..interesting…..” John’s voice trailed off, he turned away and walked back to the bedroom door.

Sherlock watched him step over the threshold and, with his back to the room he growled

“I’m going out now, I’ll be about an hour , oh and Sherlock? Don’t you dare touch your fucking cock while I’m gone, because I’ll know if you do. I know how desperate you are all the time you filthy little cock slut!”

The door slammed behind him.

OH

Sherlock pressed his forehead against the cool plaster of the bedroom wall. He shoved his fist into his mouth to stifle a groan. Fuck! He was going to come in his pants like a kid.

60 minutes felt like a lifetime.

An hour later and Sherlock sat stiffly on the sofa, hands clamped between his knees, rocking backwards and forwards slightly. This was excruciating. His cock was trapped under uncomfortable layers of material, cotton boxers and tight black denim, pressing hard and insistent, the button fly branding his hot, hard, sensitive skin with spherical welts. He desperately wanted to pop the buttons and relieve some of the unbearable pressure, but he wanted to be a good boy for John.

John had said no touching, In _that_ voice.

But John was right. He did want it all the time and that was bad. He was bad. He deserved to be punished. He wanted John to punish him. Oh God!

This train of thought was not helping.

~*~

The door to the flat clicked open and Sherlock shuddered in anticipation. It could only be John, no-one else was due back until this evening which was exactly why Sherlock was here on a Thursday afternoon, and not where he was supposed to be, at school in a double Chemistry class. His experiment would be ruined. Sherlock decided he didn’t give a single fuck.

The door to the kitchen inched open and a small blond head peered into the room.

“Get up. Now.” John said in a commanding tone “ Go to my room, take your clothes off and kneel on the floor, hands behind your back. Wait for me.”

“Oh fucking hell” thought Sherlock.

John had disappeared again. Sherlock stumbled into the bedroom, frantically pulling at his clothes. T-shirt off and over his head, dark curls tumbling wildly around his face, clumsy fingers fumbling with his leather belt and finally blessed relief as the buttons of his jeans burst open to free his aching prick. He sighed contentedly, his hand straying towards his crotch.

“Don’t . You. Fucking. Dare.!”

His entire body jolted with shock.

“I wasn’t….. I’m not….sorry John, sorry. I promise I won’t do that again, sorry” he pleaded.

John’s lip curled with contempt.

“What else should I expect from a dirty little cock slut like you? You just can’t keep your hands off it. Now get on the floor and get them behind your back like you were told to!Now!”

Sherlock’s eyes widened in surprise. He yanked his jeans off his ankles, boxers following with lightning speed and knelt mutely on the floor, hands clasped behind his back. The scratchy, utilitarian carpet irritated his knees and shins. He waited , his erection straining, almost flush against his abdomen, precome already leaving sticky smears upon his pale skin.

John regarded him thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. Sherlock could see his arousal too. He wasn’t the only one who was getting off on this.

“Right. Ground rules. If you want to stop say stop. No excuses. I know you like to push it Sherlock so I want your word”

Sherlock nodded his assent – The game was on.

John slipped back into character, pacing the floor in front of Sherlock, glaring menacingly.

“You think you have such a smart fucking mouth, don’t you Sherlock? Mr Fucking Punch Line. Well I think you would look so much better with a mouth full of my cock, at least that way I wouldn’t have to listen to all the shit that comes out of your mouth, would I?”

“No you wouldn’t have to John”.

“Did I give you permission to speak slut? No, I didn’t think so. Now say sorry sir”

(Sir! Fucking Christ!)

“Sorry sir” Sherlock stammered, thinking that he might just die right now. John was good at this, perhaps a little too good (He hoped, oh god how he hoped!)

John stood in front of him, hands poised at his zip, top button already undone.

“Unzip me…with your mouth”

Sherlock shuffled forward on his knees, carpet burning his skin. It was difficult to control his movements with his hands behind his back and he struggled to maintain his balance, almost pitching head-first into John’s groin. He heard John stifle a laugh.( Ha! Just you wait John Watson!) He grasped the zip between his lips and bent his neck to slowly draw it down. It caught a couple of times and Sherlock had to readjust, let go, tongue snaking out to catch the tiny oblong of silver between his teeth. He finished his task and looked up. John was biting his lip, eyes closed.

Sherlock sat back on his heels felling smug.

John’s eyes snapped open. Composure returned, ready to continue.

“Take my cock out. You can use your hand to do that, then behind your back again”

Sherlock delved eagerly into the depths of John’s underwear. Should he just take it out, or push his clothes down his thighs? He decided to go for the second option, shoving down John’s jeans and pants until his cock sprang free, leaving them half way down his legs. Sherlock drank in the sight before him with approval. John had an incredible cock.

John caught his lust-filled gaze and scowled darkly.

“Like what you see slut? Do you want my cock? Do you want to suck me off and make me come? Should I just stuff it in your greedy little hole? John was on a roll now. “Or maybe I’ll just shove it so far down your throat you won’t be able to breathe. Would you like that whore? Should I fuck your mouth and make you cry?”

Sherlock let out a soft moan. Oh god this was sweet torture!

His own cock throbbed and his balls felt full and heavy between his legs. John looked pointedly at him, waiting for an answer, for Sherlock’s assent. He gave it willingly.

“Please sir…. please fuck my mouth”

John’s hands were trembling slightly, but his voice was steady as he eased the head of his cock between Sherlock’s parted lips.

“Take it whore. Suck my cock. If you make it good I might let you come later. If it’s shit I’ll tie you to the bed so you can’t touch yourself….. or maybe I’ll watch you fuck the mattress like a horny little bitch”

(Sherlock considered the possibility of doing a crap job on purpose)

John canted his hips forward and pushed further into Sherlock’s mouth, resting a hand lightly on the back of his head. Sherlock massaged the flat of his tongue along the underside of his shaft, feeling the pleasing weight, tasting silky heat and the bitter tang of salt and musk. John froze in place and let Sherlock explore, drawing back to swirl his tongue around the glans, dipping into the slit, already leaking with precome , then travelling back down again, up and down, repeating the motions, increasing the pressure with each pass until John moaned loudly and gripped a fistful of his dark curls. Sherlock gave a pleased little hum which vibrated to the tip of John’s cock making him shudder and gasp.

“Enough!” he croaked, brokenly, and Sherlock let John’s erection slide from between his lips with an obscene pop, his lips glistening with saliva.

“Such a talented little slut aren’t you? You would spend all day on your knees if you could, sucking dicks and swallowing spunk wouldn’t you? Look at yourself, you’re rock hard, gagging for it. Well let’s see how you handle this, bitch!”

He grabbed the back of Sherlock’s head with one hand and shoved his prick back into Sherlock mouth with the other, then he held the sides of Sherlock’s face almost tenderly before thrusting his hips, roughly fucking Sherlock’s throat. Sherlock brought his hands around to rest on John’s hips to steady himself and John didn’t object, or perhaps he hadn’t even noticed Sherlock thought, carried away on a wave of adrenaline and lust, panting and groaning.

“Oh god Sherlock, oh fuck, feels so fucking good… aah…..aah….nnggh”

Sherlock fought his gag reflex as John pumped in and out of his mouth, his lips stretched so wide they stung faintly. He couldn’t control the drool running out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin or the tears pooling at his lashes, which overflowed and ran in salty tracks down his cheeks, the temptation to take himself in hand and fist his own aching cock almost overwhelming. John’s movements slowed reluctantly as his body began to tense, delaying his own orgasm, unwilling to finish the game just yet.

“You’re not going to get it like that slut, not today. I know you wanted my come, wanted to lick me clean…… Such a pretty mouth”

He held his erection steady and drew it around and over Sherlock’s lips, leaving a sticky trail, painting it in slow teasing circles. Sherlock panted and whined.

“See how bad you want it, how desperate you are” John’s voice was filled with something like awe now. “Such a pretty face. I think it would look even better with my come all over it”

(He wasn’t going to, was he?) Sherlock trembled slightly at the thought. It felt so deliciously filthy.

John began to fist his erection, moving his hand up and down the shaft, long and slow at first, almost teasing, sliding his thumb over the head and smearing the leaking fluid down his shaft. The noises, slick and wet and obscene. As his steady breathing changed to ragged pants, he increased the momentum, working in short, shallow thrusts, faster and faster. Sherlock was transfixed, body thrumming with anticipation. John was obviously close now, his eyes squeezed shut and his head thrown back, lips parted, moaning in pleasure. Sherlock wanted John to watch this, to see how much he ached for him, how he wanted John to mark him and claim him and destroy him….

“John….” He whispered hoarsely.

John opened his eyes, locking them with Sherlock’s….and then he was coming, body convulsing and cock pulsating, semen splashing out in warm wet stripes across Sherlock’s cheeks and chin. A little caught in his eyelashes, and he opened his mouth wide to catch the last few remaining drops on his tongue and lips, licking at it greedily.

“You dirty fucking bastard” gasped John, “that looks so fucking hot, this is fucking insane”

Sherlock picked up his discarded pants and made to wipe off the sticky mess.

“NO!”

John’s commanding voice rang out and Sherlock froze in shock.

“I like how it looks on you slut, leave it….. come here and look at yourself”

John pulled him to the full-length mirror, attached to the wall opposite the bed. Sherlock knelt in front of the mirror with John positioned behind him and stared at his reflection. He looked utterly debauched, coming coating his face, already drying in places and beginning to itch his skin. His cheeks were flushed and skin mottled pink in places with arousal, cock still straining hard against his abdomen.

“You look so filthy and dirty and fucking gorgeous, Christ Sherlock”

John curled his arms around Sherlock’s chest from behind and began rubbing in soothing strokes down his sides. He caught both his nipples between two fingertips and began to pull and roll, pinching the sensitive nubs of flesh. Sherlock groaned and threw his head back against John’s shoulder.

“Do you want to come now? Have you been a good boy, a good little slut? John whispered directly into his ear, his breath tickling the soft downy hairs on the back of Sherlock’s neck.

“Yes sir… please sir….I want to come now…please let me come…. I need it…I need it so much….”

“Watch this…I want you to see yourself… for us to see this…”

John grasped Sherlock’s cock at last, and he sagged against him as his knees buckled slightly. John wrapped his other arm tightly around his waist supporting him, kissing his neck softly, “Oh god Sherlock, oh fuck..”

Sherlock was close already. He had been on the brink for what felt like hours now, desperate for release. John began lazily stroking Sherlock’s cock from root to tip, already wet and slick with want, he arched into the touch canting his hips slowly, then faster and faster, chasing the delicious friction.

“Open your eyes Sherlock, watch this… this is mine….this is for me…I did this to you….come for me Sherlock… now…do it!”

“John…John…John…” he screamed John’s name as he came, body thrusting and jerking over and over and over, until he sagged back boneless pressed into John’s chest, breathless and spent.

He sighed contentedly, John pressed kisses to his damp, ruffled curls…..

“I think I love you Sherlock……”


End file.
